


I Walk The Line

by mpregharryqueen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1950s, Absolutely no Mpreg, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bottom Harry Styles, Harry daydreams about being a movie star, M/M, Political, Top Louis Tomlinson, brief daddy kink, harry is 17, louis is 19, surprisingly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 17:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpregharryqueen/pseuds/mpregharryqueen
Summary: Harry loves his mother. They’re inseparable. After every one of his mother’s bad breakups, they move to another city. Harry is reluctantly used to this sporadic lifestyle. However, when they move to New York City, Harry begins to find a life of his own. Louis, a young struggling playwright, shows him a  secret world that Harry did not know he had been desperately craving.A 1950s AU based in NYC.





	I Walk The Line

**1956**

Harry and his mother had always been inseparable. Harry never really knew his biological father apart from the check he received from him once a month signed Jakob. Harry sent him letters but they remained unanswered. Instead he had a steady string of step-fathers. But Harry preferred when it was just his mother and he (the short period of time between his mother’s breakups and her next husband or boyfriend that always moved in). 

He remembered when he was little he would always put on his mother’s red lipstick and one of her embroidered silk robes and dance in front of the mirror. His mother found it so adorable she took a picture and had five prints made. But shortly after she married a man named Richard, he put an end to it. So his mother bought him his very own tube of red lipstick and gave him one of her robes and told him to only dress up when Richard wasn’t home. 

Their red lipstick obsession came from his mother’s love for Marilyn Monroe. She kept photos of the actress everywhere. A stranger would walk into their home and assume she was a family member by the sheer amount of framed photos they had of her. His mother idolized her to the point that she bleached her hair platinum blonde routinely. However, she told Harry to never ruin his dark curls when he asked if she would bleach his hair as well. 

Harry’s mother had always believed in unconventional parenting. She went through a phase when Harry was five where she wanted him to call her by her first name, Deborah, but Harry couldn’t stop calling her “mommy.” She eventually regretted ever asking him to do that, saying she never wanted him to stop calling her “mommy,” even when he was fifty. 

Then as his went through puberty, his mother always wanted him to express his sexuality. They were open about these things. She never made him come out. She just accepted it and that was that. When he turned 15, she gave him all the advice she knew on men, and told him he had to come to her before he lost his virginity so she could could make sure he was safe. 

Harry loved his mother. 

But. 

“Darling, Dumpling,” she leaned down to kiss Harry’s cheek. Harry looked up from the new Janet Lambert book he was reading. 

He knew what was coming. He flipped a page and continued to ignore Deborah. 

She sat on the top of the couch, “Sweetie, what do you think about moving to New York?” 

Harry didn’t respond. They moved after every breakup/divorce. 

She took his silence as a cue to justify _why_ as though he didn’t already know, “it’s just that. Well, baby…. I can’t stand being around here with all of these….memories…of James.” 

James was his mother’s most recent boyfriend who made comments about Harry embroidering, or Harry doing anything really. Harry wasn’t fond of him but he was never very fond of the men his mother chose. 

“Darling, you could lose your _virginity_ in New York. Do you know how many men are just like you there?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. His mother was desperate for him to lose his virginity. She thought sexual expression was the most important aspect of mental health. Her philosophy had always been “if you’re not having sex you might as well be dead.” 

“I’ve only just turned 17, mother,” Harry reminded her. 

“Well, hogwash! I was already having sex at 15!” Deborah laughed. When Harry did not respond, she continued. 

“Oh, baby, please don’t be upset,” she groaned and massaged his scalp. 

Harry couldn’t handle his mother feeling guilty. So he lied. As always. 

He smiled up at her, “No, mommy, I’m ready to leave Annapolis.” 

“I knew you were, pumpkin,” she stood up and unruffled her tight cropped sweater, “you’re just like your momma — you can’t stand being in one place for too long.” 

Neither of those things were true. 

“Think, about it, dear. Grace Kelly lives in New York. You could meet her!” 

Harry perked up despite himself. He did love Grace Kelly almost as much as he loved his own mother. What if he met her before the wedding? She could invite him to it and maybe he could be flown to Monaco. Maybe she would get him casted in a movie. He could become a celebrity. 

Harry pictured himself running into her on a rainy New York street. He had to navigate in a sea of people and they crash into each other in front of streetcar that releases the smell of hotdogs. They laughed as they look at each other and they become inseparable best friends. 

Harry jolted up to start packing. 

——— 

They found an apartment in the meatpacking district. Harry hated the smell. Even more, his mother had already made her new male friends. Harry tried to scare them off by walking around in his robe and lipstick but they didn’t seem to care as much as the men elsewhere usually did. 

They stared at him oddly but they never made any comments. 

The strange thing about New York was that his mother began to make actual friends as well. She had a pretty chubby woman named Ruthie over for coffee almost everyday. And at least once a week she had Ruthie bring her husband, Carl, along with her and she cooked dinner for everyone. 

It was strange. His mother was honest and open with them in ways she usually only reserved for Harry. She told them upfront she wasn’t going to be remarrying unless the man was richer than her ex-husband because the spousal support was too good to give up. Ruthie and her husband found that hilarious and laughed along at his mother’s greediness. They also dotted on him and commended his mother on raising such a caring boy. 

Harry generally tried to avoid having conversations with them but they pushed through regardless of his body language. While he was washing dishes one night, Ruthie joined him. She told him about the playhouse her husband owned and how he was welcome to stop by their bar anytime he wanted because a lot of artists hung out there during the day to try and rub elbows with them and earn a spot for their play. 

This was, of course, after Ruthie and his mother had whispered about how most playwrights had “sugar in the tank, at least a little bit.” 

His mother perked up from behind them, “you know, Ruthie, I would love to help out around the bar.” 

Ruthie nodded and smiled and his mother lamented about wanting to find a nice man. As if she ever had problems with that. Albeit, they were hardly ever nice. 

___ 

Harry’s mother enrolled him in St. Thomas and because it was so late in the year all of the teachers were struggling with finding things for him to do. He couldn’t take any finals so he mostly worked on math problems and mandatory readings. 

He hadn’t made any friends and he didn’t intend to do so. Harry never made friends. He learned it was best to not make any attachments at his new temporary home. He kept to himself and read his Janet Lambert novels during lunch hour. The boys always stared at him disapprovingly and whisper hateful things while the girls tended to giggle viciously every time he walked by. 

Harry always went straight home after school to be with his mother. She had told him to never worry about what anyone else said or thought because she was his very best friend and all he needed in this world. 

“Harry, dumpling, the wedding is coming on!” his mother shouted as she placed a pitcher of fresh lemonade alongside the two glasses on the coffee table. 

Grace Kelly's wedding was finally coming on after weeks of anticipation. She had eradicated her contract with MGM by allowing them to film the wedding. It was bittersweet for Harry because while he could watch the beautiful royal wedding he also knew this was the last time he would see Grace Kelly on the screen. 

He cried the entire wedding as his mother held him close. She then let him drink two glasses of Merlot. He went to bed giggling about getting a wedding dress like Grace Kelly’s to wear around the house. His mother smiled down at him and whispered “dream big.” 

——-

Before Harry knew it, he was finished with his Junior year and didn’t have to come back to the prison that was St. Thomas until September. His mother had baked him a cake on his last day of school and promised that they would spend all summer driving around New York doing the tourist things Harry wanted to do. However, his mother spent most of her time working at Ruthie’s bar. Harry had yet to actually visit the place despite Ruthie’s insistence that he stop by after school. 

By the second week of June, Harry finally decided to visit Ruthie’s bar. He was bored of the apartment and had already completed four embroiders. The real driving force for him to stop by the bar, however, was that he was craving ice cream something fierce and he had already spent the money his mother had left on the kitchen counter on a sub. needed some money from his mother. So, he grabbed his bike and clumsily jolted down the stairs. 

His mother smiled brightly when she saw him, “Look who has finally decided to stop by!” 

Harry sat down on the barstool directly in front of his mother. When she leaned over the bar to kiss his cheek, Harry proudly explained, “I finished embroidering your last pillow.” 

“Thank you, Dumpling. You’re so sweet.” 

She then walked over to the newest customer, a muscular blonde man with the largest quiff Harry had ever seen. Typical. 

Ruthie wordlessly handed him a bowl of peanuts and a coke. After this initiation of sorts, Harry was comfortable enough to actually inspect the bar. There were several men, all with notebooks, writing furiously with their fountain pens. Harry would admit to anyone that he didn’t know much, but their actions still felt so silly. 

What could one possibly write in a bar? 

“Oh, I say. That one had got his eye on you.” 

Harry jumped at the sudden proximity of both the body and voice of Ruthie. He been enjoying his smug condemnation of the writing men, thank you very much. 

Despite himself, Harry turned to where a man, a very good looking man with sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes was resting his head on his hand. His hand was covered in black ink as though he had been resting it on his notebook pages for too long. Harry figured that the man would have diverted his eyes upon Harry noticing him. He did the opposite, however. 

He began to walk towards Harry. 

What was wrong with New Yorkers?” 

“Hi,” The man smiled. His face was sharp and rugged. His eyes were very blue and Harry couldn’t look at them for more than a microsecond. 

Harry exasperated, “Hi.” 

“I’ve never seen you here before but it looks like you know Ruthie,” He inquired without actually asking a single question. 

Harry mumbled, “I..um...I moved here a couple of weeks ago. She’s my mom’s friend.” 

Harry pointed towards his mother who was serving the man another beer and openly flirting with him. For the first time in his life Harry felt embarrassed by his mother and he wished he hadn’t pointed her out to the man. Then he felt plagued with shame for even having that thought. 

He noticed the man stare at his coke, “I see. So, are you a...a friend of Dorothy…?” 

And what? 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are talking about...?” 

The man leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “are you bent?” 

Harry knew what that meant. He nodded as his cheeks reddened again. He knew he had to look like Santa Claus at this point. 

“Well, now you know you are a friend of hers,” The man winked and took a sip of his beer. 

“What do you do?” Harry finally thought to ask, as he felt an awkward silence settle between them. At least, it was awkward for Harry as the other man stared at him softly. 

“I’m a wannabe playwright. Quite sad, really,” the man sighed. 

“How is that sad? I mean Marilyn Monroe had to really fight to get where she is,” Harry was still full of youthful optimism and thought about all the stars he loved who made it through hard work and grit. 

The man smiled, “I like you. You need to come around more often.” 

He grabbed another beer from Deborah and smiled at her nervously. He was about to speak to her when the man at the end of the bar grabbed her attention again. They continued to make small conversation about mundane details such as where they were from and their favorite movies. Harry learned that the man was from Brooklyn and had moved to Manhattan two years ago. He also promised to show Harry around New York, which seemed very promising. 

It was only when the man was leaving for a writers’ club meeting that Harry realized he had no idea what his name was nor how to find him for said tour. He figured he frequented Ruthie’s bar but that still didn’t guarantee they would see each other again. Just as the man went to open the door he turned back around. Harry’s heart fluttered as the man opened his fraying briefcase and handed Harry his fountain pen. 

“May I have your telephone number?” He grabbed the napkin from under Harry’s coke. Harry thought he was quite sure of himself. 

Harry flustered. The man could have simply called a telephone operator but he supposed without a name, that would be impossible. “Oh, yes. We are on a party line though, so ask for Deborah Branch, my mother.” 

“But what if I want to ask for you?” The man teased. 

“Harry Styles,” Harry wrote down as he couldn't contain his own smile. 

“Louis Tomlinson,” He nodded in response. 

____ 

Louis called later that night. His mother answered and teased Harry relentlessly as he ran to take the phone from her. He asked if Harry would be willing for the tour to start tomorrow at ten o’clock and Harry went to sleep that night anxious for the next day to arrive. 

The next morning, Louis was sitting at the bottom of his apartment steps. They greeted each other quickly before beginning the walk. Louis told him the best places to eat and visit. Harry was becoming more and more mesmerized by his new city. This had by far become his favorite place they had ever lived. For more than one reason. 

“Where all have you lived?” Louis asked after Harry had mentioned his hatred for Annapolis. 

“All over the country. I was born in North Carolina and lived there for three years. Then my mother and I moved to Arizona, then Kansas, then Chicago. I could go on. Basically, we move every one to two years,” Harry explained. 

“Is your father in the military?” Louis asked. It was a logical explanation and Harry understood that, but… he didn’t want to talk about it. 

So, he just quickly shook his head in response and Louis dropped it. Louis kept looking back at him nervously and Harry becoming very unsure. It was starting to make him nervous. He didn’t know what this unspoken tension was but he didn’t like it. 

“Louis, what’s going on?” Harry finally asked. 

Louis rubbed his nose before looking Harry in the eye, “I just… I wanted to know if you’d be up for going somewhere.” 

Harry chirped, “It depends on where we are going.” 

“It’s a secret place for people like us,” Louis responded. He obviously felt conflicted about whether or not to take Harry there, wherever it was. _Whatever_ it was. 

“What is it?” 

Louis sighed, “It’s a bar. It’s a little different than Ruthie’s bar. You have to have a code to get in, or at least be a familiar face.” 

“But...it’s illegal and if the place gets raided by the police, we’ll be arrested. And I don’t know if I feel comfortable putting you at risk like that,” Louis explained. 

Harry’s curiosity overpowered him, “Well, has it ever been raided by the police?” 

Louis shook his head, “Not this one. They’re very cautious.” 

“Then why not?” Harry grinned. 

They arrived on the correct block twenty minutes later and Harry’s feet ached. He was going to have to ask Louis to split a cab with him on their way home. He hated that he was even going to have to ask because it was obvious that Louis didn’t make much money by his tattered jeans and old briefcase. But maybe he was simply frugal. And maybe he could insist on paying the whole fare. 

As they approached a door in the alleyway, Louis asked Harry to hold his hand as he knocked. The door opened shortly after, a red-haired man, with a deformed right finger, inspecting them. He took a long notice of their hand holding. 

“Okay, password?” He asked, keeping the door tightly cracked so that they couldn’t see inside. 

Louis rolled his eyes, “Lord Tennyson.” 

The man shook his head, “That was last week’s password. You’ve been given old information.” 

“Oh, come on, Billy!” Louis groaned. 

He was loud enough that some people inside could recognize his voice and demanded that this Billy let him in. The red-haired man gave in after a few minutes of berating and Louis lead Harry in. Harry found himself hiding behind Louis as he entered an unknown, crowded territory. 

The sight before him was overwhelming. It was an ocean of men. Unlike Ruthie’s bar, these men were not standing inches apart. In fact, some were openly kissing one another. It was like he had entered an alternative universe. He felt himself growing misty eyed at the sight because his entire life this had been hidden from him. His mother was accepting and loving but the world forced this aside into corners of dark alleyways protected by passwords. 

Harry trailed behind Louis as he told him they were heading towards a group of his friends. The three men were all sitting around a round table where phrases could be heard from across the room. They greeted Louis enthusiastically while openly staring at Harry. He hadn’t realized that Louis had let go of his hand as he stood there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Once Louis had greeted all of them, he turned around to introduce Harry before one of them could interrupt him. 

“Aw, now who is this chicken?” The brunette had a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other. He looked like he was struggling to multitask, however, he smiled at Harry warmly. 

‘Chicken’? Was his fear that obvious? He had told his mother that being with Louis before had made him feel like he truly had no idea what it meant to be gay. There was was this whole other language that he had no idea about. 

The bewilderment must have been evident because the man quickly explained, “No, no, I’m not calling you a name. I meant that you’re a young one of us. You’re new to this. You’re a baby.” 

All of Harry’s fears about not knowing anything were reconfirmed. He truly did not know anything. And apparently that much was obvious if a complete stranger knew he was a “chicken.” There was something so ironic about being exposed to sex by his mother that he always felt like the least sheltered kid in the room. He almost felt abnormal with his knowledge about sex but yet when he was with his “own kind,” he felt like the most sheltered human to exist. 

“This is Harry. He just moved here in April.” Louis placed his hand on Harry’s lower back and Harry involuntarily leaned against him. 

“And, Harry, this is David,” He pointed to the stoic dark-haired man who looked like a Roman statue, his nose perfectly strong and pointed. 

“That’s Robert,” This time he pointed towards the friendly brunette who smiled at him again. 

“And this is Charles,” The older man with a mustache nodded in Harry’s direction. 

Harry waved at them before Louis grabbed him a chair to sit down in. Harry whispered a thank you and looked around nervously. The brunette who greeted him offered him a cigarette which he happily took. Louis lit the cigarette for him, holding his chin gently and Harry wondered if it would be inappropriate to kiss Louis now considering they were really still strangers. 

“Are you still in school?” David asked as he lit another cigarette. 

Harry nodded, “I started attending St. Thomas. I’ll be back in September for my Senior year.” 

“You’re just a baby,” Charles said as he gave Louis a stern look. 

“I’ll be 18 in a year,” Harry didn’t want to be kicked out so soon. 

“Yes, and Louis’s only 19. You’re too naughty to be a Puritan, Charles,” Robert defended Louis, though there was really nothing to defend. Harry and Louis hadn’t done anything other than hold hands. 

Louis ignored them all and began talking about the new play he was working on. He seemed more interested in what Charles had to say than anyone else. And Harry thought that Charles did look like a knowledgeable man, with his thick mustache and spectacles that sat cautiously on his nose. Harry sat quietly and smoked his cigarette, until he noticed, the couple who had been kissing edged towards the bathroom. He assumed the bathroom here wasn’t actually used for _using_ the bathroom. 

Despite the extensive conversation with Charles, Louis was extremely attentive. Before Harry even finished a cigarette, he was already pulling a new one out for him. And he never let Harry light it himself. However, Harry was a little disgruntled that Louis only talked to his friends about writing ideas. Robert eventually caught on to this and began asking a million questions about him. Harry mostly told him about his mother and how often they moved. This seemed to appease Robert who found Deborah’s love affairs fascinating. 

“Did she really spank him!?” Robert took a drag of his cigarette and laughed. 

Harry blushed, “It was horrible! I was twelve and forever mortified. My mother never so much as tapped me yet she was outright spanking Mr. Walter with a belt.” 

Robert’s head leaned back with the force of his laughter, “your mother is amazing.” 

Louis didn’t look or sound as impressed. “Your mother had these men over while you were home?” 

“She thought I was asleep,” Harry defended her quickly. He suddenly felt his stomach twist with guilt for even airing his mother’s dirty laundry. 

“And you guys probably have very healthy, open discussions about sex,” Robert decided. Harry liked that he was so kind but it also irritated him that he treated him like a, well, “chicken.” 

Harry nodded shortly. He was never afraid to ask his mother anything about sex and he figured that was important. 

Louis shook his head, correcting himself “You’re right. It wasn’t my place to judge. You’re mom clearly cares about you a lot.” 

Harry smiled at him gratefully. His mother meant the world to him and for some reason he really needed Louis to approve of her. Harry pressed his new cigarette. courtesy of Louis, against his lips. He had never smoked so much in his life, and he wondered what his mother would think. She had always let him have one of her cigarettes, once a day. But, Harry figured there wasn’t any point in stopping when every time he needed a new one Louis cupped his chin to light it. 

____

Louis walked Harry up to his apartment silently. Thoughts of a warm bath and Janet Lambert’s new novel, _Girl on The Run_ , beckoned Harry. But when the door closed behind them, Louis kissed him on his cheek. Harry blushed as Louis asked to see him again tomorrow for a trip to the best ice cream shop in Manhattan. Harry had mindlessly mentioned on their cab ride over that he had never gotten the ice cream he was craving the other day. 

The minute Louis walked out the door Harry placed his hand on his cheek in awe. 

“Mother!” He gushed. 

_______

Harry ordered one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of coffee ice cream in a cone. But fate would have it, for some reason, the freckled teenager behind the counter claimed that this could not be done. So, Louis argued for ten minutes on his behalf. 

“How can you not do an order that simple? It’s the easiest thing in the world,” Louis huffed. 

“We can’t mix flavors. He has to choose two scoops of the same ice cream,” The young man explained sharply, he fixed his paper hat as he shifted his head violently. 

“That’s ridiculous! Just do it! We can pay extra.” 

“Louis, it’s fine —” 

“No, it’s not. We are going to go somewhere else.” 

They ended up at Jack’s Scoops, a ten-minute cab drive from their original destination. Harry thanked Louis profusely when he bought both of their ice cream cones. He knew he needed to explain to Louis that he could pay for stuff as well. It was just a matter of getting the courage to do so and Louis never even hesitated to pay. 

Just as Harry was about to ask if he could pay the next time, if there was a _next_ time, Louis interrupted his thoughts. 

“Hey, I saw something the other day that I just had to get you,” Louis opened his tattered briefcase and pulled out a square object covered by a handkerchief. 

“Louis, that’s so unnecessary,” Harry knew he was flustered. They had just met two days ago and he had already spent money on him every day they met. 

“Nah, someone as beautiful as you needs something beautiful to hold their cigarettes,” He handed him a little tin cigarette case with the outline of a woman in Victorian attire on it. Harry didn’t know if even smoked enough to own one of these but he guessed that would be changing now. It was so elegant and Harry imagined it would make him look like a movie star. Harry opened it up to reveal that Louis had also stocked him with cigarettes. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. He didn’t know how to properly thank him and he kept hearing his mother’s voice in the back of his mind. 

_Dumpling, men only spend money on you if they’re smitten. And if you want to keep them, you have to make it up to them in...other ways._

He felt the flush from his cheeks reach his chest. 

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. 

“You’re welcome,” Louis almost reached over to rub Harry’s hand before he jerked it back quickly. He looked around to make sure no one had seen them. 

“Say, do you want to head over to the bar?” Louis watched as Harry kitten licked the last remainder of his ice cream before quickly shoving the rest of the cone in his mouth. He had to stop himself from wiping the ice cream left on his upper lip. 

Harry didn’t know which bar Louis was referring to but the minute they got in the cab he found out that Louis was taking him to the “underground” bar, the nameless bar. This time when they arrived a new man was guarding the door. He was an older gentleman with a Clark Gable mustache and when Harry told him that he looked like Clark Gable they were granted access without the need of a password. 

“Good work,” Louis laughed. “I honestly didn’t know the password and that guy is tough.” 

None of Louis’s friends from yesterday were there but Louis ordered them both a glass of wine and sat them in a corner table. Several people stopped by to introduce themselves to Harry and speak to Louis. It seemed like Louis knew everyone here, and Harry was in a constant stream of introductions and small talk. Harry had perfected the art of small talk as a young age. The key was to be an active listener, who asked the one talking questions about themselves. Harry discovered that people were usually too egotistical to ever stop and ask him in turn questions about himself. It worked like a charm. Regardless, he wanted to get past these necessary introductions. He figured he would eventually. If they stayed in New York, that is. Which was highly unlikely. 

This realization combined with Harry having already downed his glass of wine gave Harry the courage to lean over quickly and kiss Louis on the lips. It was a simple kiss but one that Harry had never shared before with anyone. Though, Louis didn’t appear to be finished because he scooted his chair as close as possible to Harry’s and began kissing him more deeply. Harry had no idea what he was doing so he just opened his mouth and let Louis do the heavy lifting. Louis wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and continued to kiss him gently. 

When Harry slowly began to get the hang of it, he found himself out of place again when Louis moved to his neck. He mewled desperately as Louis nibbled at his ear and then licked his throat. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with Louis but he knew it involved offering himself to the man. He opened his eyes to see if anyone was watching and blushed when he noticed a few people stare after he moaned. He also knew he was ridiculously hard and he was about to ask Louis to slow down just a little when Louis began nibbling right below his ear and he lost it. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck and begged for something he wasn’t conscious of. He knew it was coming; he had masutrbated enough to know the exact point of no return. He tried to tell Louis that he needed to go to the bathroom but he could not get the words out. His body and his mind wanted two completely different things. He just felt himself heating up and trying to give Louis more access to his neck. 

He came with his hands clenched around Louis’s shirt and his hips rutting in the air. He was so embarrassed that he was finally able to jerk himself away from Louis’s grasp. He caught his breath and felt the weight of a few knowing stares on him. Louis rubbed his back and whispered that it’s happened to everyone in here but Harry still felt impossibly childish. He just wanted to get home and change out of his wet pants and never have to look Louis in the eye again. When they stood to leave, Louis handed Harry his briefcase to hide his stains. He told him not to worry about it and that he would get it back later. 

Harry ran up to his apartment and quickly shoved off his pants and underwear and placed Louis’s briefcase on his bedside table. He quickly ran into the bathroom and started a warm bath, adding his mother’s bubble bath lotions to the water. He wanted to scrub away every memory of his accident. Louis had reassured him that he wasn’t put off by it, quite the opposite, but he still felt so dirty. When he got out of the bathtub, he wrapped himself in his robe and picked up one of his mother’s Vogue magazines, anything to keep his mind off of today. 

His mother walked in with a bag of groceries and informed him she was making chicken fettuccine for dinner as Harry debated whether or not to ask for her advice on the matter. He heard the clicking of her heels as she made it into the living room, reaching down to kiss him on the cheek when she gasped. 

“Dumpling!” 

Harry startled, “What?!” 

She gently leaned Harry’s head back and rubbed her finger against his neck. And. _Oh_ . 

“Dumpling, are you having sex? Is that why you’ve been gone all day?” She asked, a gleam in her eyes. 

“ _What?_ No! It was a….fun afternoon,” Harry groaned. 

“I can see that,” She laughed. “My baby is growing up.” 

Harry perked up when he heard the phone ring to which his mother chastised him for assuming the call was for him. However, when she answered the phone she rolled her eyes and confirmed that it was indeed for Harry. He ran towards the phone quickly. 

“Hello?” Harry whispered. 

“Hey, so...I was thinking,” Louis laughed, “why don’t you come over here tomorrow to drop off by briefcase? Here, I’ll give you my address.” 

Harry suddenly felt himself panic as he grabbed a paper and pen from the nearest drawer. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet but he assumed it would be better to talk to Louis about this in person. Or, would that be teasing him if he came over and then didn’t give out? 

“Umm, well, see… I have to stop by the tailors to pick up my new pair of pants.” 

It wasn’t a lie but it definitely wouldn’t take all day. 

“That’s fine, you can come after, I’m staying home all day to write anyways,” Louis chuckled. 

Oh good golly. 

“Okay, okay,” Harry tried to sound delighted, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

Harry hung up the phone and walked towards his mother nervously. 

“Mommy,” Harry coughed. “How do you get out of having sex with someone? Not that you don’t want to it’s just... that you aren’t ready.” 

“Ohh,” His mother looked at him thoughtfully. “I, guess, dear, you just explain to them that you aren’t ready.” 

Harry nodded. Sometimes his mother did give thoughtful advice that didn’t include sex as the cure-all. And Louis was a nice person, he was sure he would understand. 

“Make sure he knows that you’re a complete virgin and have never had a single thing up your ass.” 

There she was. 

“Mom,” Harry groaned. 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mpregharryqueen


End file.
